


Padawan Pack: Genesis

by Rapier_Thirteen



Series: Padawan Pack [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clone Wars, Clones, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Epic Battles, Epic Friendship, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Heroes & Heroines, Jedi, Jedi Knights, Jedi Training, Knight Anakin, Light Angst, Lightsabers, Major Original Character(s), Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Multi, Near Death Experiences, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Padawan, Padawan Braids, Post-Battle of Geonosis, Pre-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Starting Over, Survivor Guilt, Teacher Obi-Wan, The Dark Side of the Force, The Force
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-07 13:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8802469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rapier_Thirteen/pseuds/Rapier_Thirteen
Summary: After a fierce battle on Geonosis, Mira Rourke is a masterless padawan. She and four others are formed into a padawan pack, the first created since Jabiim. But with high stakes and a leader set on avenging his master's death no matter what the cost, Mira and the others find themselves locked in a battle not only for their lives, but for the light within them. Also on FF!





	1. Call the Retreat

_Chapter 1: Call the Retreat_

It's all Mira can do to keep running.

Her breath falters, her heart races. Her knees threaten to fall out from under her as her feet pound into the stiff Geonosian terrain. Explosions shake the ground; stray blaster shots whizz past her from every direction. She barely picks out the azure blade of a lightsaber bobbing up and down in the dense mix of dust and fog that clouds her vision.

 _Follow that saber_ , she tells herself. _Just follow that saber…._

She's suddenly aware of the large body she's following sliding to a stop, the sapphire blade in its hand flicking upwards to block a battle droid's blaster fire. Her feet digging into the ground to stop her long stride, she struggles to slide to a stop but instead collides into the figure in front of her.

The figure's deep voice lightly chuckles through the Force. _I never thought I'd ever have to tell you to watch where you were going._

 _Apologies, Master_ , the padawan shoots back, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. _I was busy trying to keep my head from getting blown off._

Mira barely sees Master Drackon plow through a few more battle droids before he disappears into the mist in front of her again. Using the light of his lightsaber as a guide, she keeps running forward, trying with everything in her to keep up with his long stride. Her jade lightsaber abruptly jerks upward, a red laser beam ricocheting from it and plunging into the chrome-plated chest of a super battle droid nearby. She pushes another into a long line of battle droids, spare parts and mechanical limbs flying in every direction.

As she follows him through the chaos, Mira feels her master's Force signature steadily growing uneasy.

"Stay close to me!" Drackon shouts over the blasterfire, swiftly Force-jumping up and out of the heavy smog. Gathering every ounce of power she has, Mira springs after him, flying through the air effortlessly.

The landing, however, is not so graceful.

Dragging herself to her feet, Mira quickly wheels around, frantically looking around for her master. Fear wraps a grimy hand around her heart when her grey eyes don't immediately find what they're looking for.

"Master!" she barks, panic setting into her voice. "Master!"

 _Could use some help right now,_ Drackon replies dryly through the Force.

_Where are you?_

_See that squadron of destroyers at the edge of the cliff?_

Squinting into the Geonosian sun, Mira barely makes out the silhouette of seven or eight droidekas standing with shields up and cannons pointed at…

"Oh, _kriff_."

Without hesitation, Mira's long legs propel her towards the destroyers. Using the Force to launch herself into the air, she brings her lightsaber crashing down on top of one of the destroyers' shields, dismantling it. The droids answer with a steady barrage of blasterfire, of which she and her master both struggle to block. Suddenly one of the droids suddenly spins out of control and rams into the other four, reducing them all to a smoking scrap pile.

Her hand still outstretched, Mira's body is completely frozen, a surprised smirk fastened to her face. _Didn't expect that to work…._

Drackon claps her on the shoulder. "That was a nifty little trick," he says, beaming with pride.

"Well, I learned from the best," Mira grins, bouncing his compliment back onto him. She brushes a piece of chestnut brown hair out of her eyes and looks back up at her master.

He's staring off into the distance, eyes wide.

And the next second, he's plowing across the mesa again, his padawan on his heels.

 _What is it?_ Mira queries through the Force.

They slide to a stop at the edge of the cliff and peer downward. Squinting into the mist, Mira barely makes out a handful of the 501st at the bottom of the cliff, wildly shooting at… something. Several of them are suddenly lifted into the air, almost above the dense cloud of Geonosian dust, and thrust violently back downwards, their bones splintering with a loud, thudding crack.

Offering a deadly greeting, a sudden pang of the Dark Side wafts up the sheer mountainside, one so strong and thick that it makes Mira gag. A long, glowing beam of red light punctures through the thick smog, tearing through the air and ripping into the chests of several more members of the 501st.

Not but a second later, another crimson beam appears.

And then another.

There's more than one of them.

Mira's heart jumps into her throat.

"They need help," Drackon murmurs gravely.

Shifting her weight to the balls of her feet, Mira prepares for the descent. She takes a sharp step forward, only to have Drackon grab her arm in restraint.

"I need you to stay here, Mira," he says firmly. "It's too dangerous down there for you."

"What about you?" Mira retorts. "Don't you think taking on a Sith lord by yourself is overshooting it a little?"

"There are two of them," Drackon corrects flatly. "And no, it won't be."

Mira's grey eyes bug.

"And there's why."

Following her master's finger, Mira squints into the dust cloud, at two azure lightsabers that move steadily closer to the brawl.

"Wait here," Drackon commands, reigniting his own saber and diving off the cliff.

A standard second passes. Two. Three. A minute. It might as well be eternity for Mira, whose signature drips with fear. The dark side continues to shoot up the cliff, tangling around her limbs. Shivering up her spine. Intensifying the dread that has frozen her heart. The padawan reaches out with the Force in a desperate attempt to connect to her master, but the connection only worsens her anxiety.

His strength falters. The Sith closes in, forcing the Jedi's back into the solid red wall of Geonosian rock that towers behind him.

And to her complete horror, Mira suddenly loses contact with him.

In a hurried panic, she turns over her shoulder and calls to a few nearby clones.

 _I am going to get into so much trouble for this_.

"You four!" Mira barks, waving them to her. "Follow me!"

Her weight shifts to the balls of her feet, and Mira bolts across the plateau as fast as her legs will carry her, her white-armored companions on her tail. The rock disappears from beneath her; the dust envelopes her as her feet smack the ground and her lightsaber leaps into her hand.

Her vision blurred by the grimy fog, Mira reaches out with the Force in an attempt to locate her master. Squinting into the dust, she finally picks out the distant flashing of lightsabers, sapphire and crimson, clashing with each other and whirring through the air. She charges forward, dodging stray mechanical limbs as she goes.

A stream of the dark side rams into her chest, sending her flying backwards. Drifting into a dazed stupor and fighting to keep from blacking out, Mira slowly stands and moves forward, spells of dizziness and nausea ripping the strength from her body. She's close enough now that she can make out the silhouettes of Drackon and the Sith that forces him to the wall. The Sith's obsidian mass suddenly jerks upward, driving his knee into the Jedi's stomach.

Drackon lurches forward and collapses to the ground.

And the Sith brings an avalanche of giant Geonosian boulders crashing down on top of him.

Mira screams, terror freezing her body.

The Sith turns to face her, a nasty grin stretched across his black-striped face. Raising his hand into the air, he pounds the rubble into the ground again, the agonizing crunch of Drackon's bones piercing Mira's ears. Menacingly his hand clenches shut and releases again, over and over and over.

As if he feels his adversary's body splintering in his palm.

Her eyes flooding with tears, Mira tentatively reaches out with the Force to her master's battered signature.

 _Mira_ , it whispers.

A relieved smile stretches across Mira's face. He's still alive.

Barely.

 _Hold on, master!_ Mira calls through their Force bond. _I'm coming!_

Without thinking, she sprints forward, her eyes never leaving the heap of rubble. Suddenly, she finds herself sailing through the air again, another harsh blitz from the Dark Side sending her hurdling backwards.

Her body slams into the hard, packed ground, right at the feet of the Sith.

He grins wickedly down at her, the double-bladed lightsaber that rests in his giant hand droning ominously. Mira fights to push herself to her feet, but her shaking limbs buckle out from beneath her.

The Sith chuckles hoarsely, outstretching his hand a flexing his fingers. Finally scrambling to her feet, Mira can only watch in horror as the fluorescent blue glow of Sith lightening beads at his fingertips.

The Sith's hand jerks slightly upwards as the lightening is released, but it never hits its intended target. Two older Jedi have positioned themselves between the Sith and Mira, the younger of the two bombarding the Sith with a surprisingly aggressive attack. The double-bladed saber struggles to keep up with his rapid onslaught.

"Where is your master, Commander?" the older Jedi bellows over the chaos.

Drackon.

Tears nearly blinding her, Mira stumbles through the reinforcements that flood the battlefield, to the heap of rubble piled at the base of the cliff. With shaking hands, the padawan fumbles through the heavy mound of Geonosian rock.

A few sobs escape her when she lays eyes on her master.

His left arm is completely crushed, his hand is missing. His face is badly bruised; the top of his head is gushing blood from where the sharp rock impaled it.

Gingerly, Mira lays a hand on his shoulder and whispers, "Master?"

Drackon's blue eyes flicker open, his face contorted with pain. "Mira…."

Mira nods. "Yes, it's me." She forces a smile through her tears.

Drackon sharply inhales. "There are more Federation droids coming," he whispers. "You need to get out of here. The 501st won't be able to hold them off forever."

Mira chokes. "And you expect me to leave you here like this?"

Drackon slowly reaches up and grabs Mira's hand. "You've got to, Mira."

Mira shakes her head in disbelief, tears dripping from her eyes. She's vaguely aware that the older of the two Jedi is standing behind her, hurriedly shouting into a comlink and ordering a retreat.

"….Blast, Anakin!" he barks. "If you found another one, what in the blazes are you standing there for? Get her out of there! We need to retreat! Now!"

Mira suddenly feels a strong hand on her shaking shoulder.

"Go with him, Mira," Drackon murmurs. "He'll look after you."

"I can't—"

"Come with me, Commander," the older Jedi says gently.

"No…"

A strong pair of arms wraps around her waist and begins to drag her away.

"No!" Mira screams. "Please, no!" Her body rocks with sobs. "Master!"

A LAAT lands nosily behind them, vibrating the ground and sending dust flying in every direction. The older Jedi barks a few orders at the clones that man the gunship, and the clones open fire into the haze. After the first volley, he pulls Mira with him onto the gunship. The clones fire into the dust again, and the LAAT takes off.

As the dust disappears and clean air pours into her lungs, a few raspy coughs tear at Mira's throat between sobs, and the padawan collapses to her knees. Her eyes clouded with tears and her body trembling, she's barely aware of someone helping her to her feet. A gentle hand rests on her shoulder.

"Commander," the older Jedi says softly. "Can you tell me what ha—"

Without thinking, Mira throws her arms around the Jedi's neck, sobbing into his shoulder and shaking violently. After a hesitance, she feels his arms wrap around her, his hand lightly patting her shoulder.

Finally, he pulls away, gently grasping the padawan's shoulders and looking her right in the eyes. Mira expects him to be angry, but to her relief, he's not.

"Commander?" he asks sympathetically.

It's then Mira realizes who she's talking to, and her heart falls into her stomach.

"General Kenobi," she says with a sniff, hurriedly wiping the tears from her face. "I… I'm sorry. I wouldn't have done that had I known it was you. I… I just—"

"I know all too well what you're dealing with," the general cajoles, smiling reassuringly. "You've done nothing wrong, Commander. I'm here if you need me."

Mira nods in appreciation. "Thank you, General."

The comm in Kenobi's pocket begins to beep wildly. Keeping his hand on Mira's shoulder, he calls the comm to his hand with the Force.

"Kenobi, here."

"Master," a worried voice barks. "I've got the commander on a gunship. We're heading out." He sighs. "She's not doing too well."

"Well, how is she?"

"Unconscious. I don't know if she's hurt or if she's just freaked out. But I might need a medical capsule when we get back." He pauses. "How's yours?"

Kenobi rolls the comm into Mira's hand, much to her surprise. "I'm a little shaken up," she replies, "but I'm not hurt."

The man on the other side chuckles. "What's your name, Commander?"

"Mira Rourke."

"Anakin Skywalker."

Mira beams. "It's an honor, General."

Anakin laughs softly, clearly amused. "You sure you're feeling alright? You sound a little breathless."

The commander chortles through her tears.

"Hang in there," Anakin bolsters. "We're almost back at base."

Mira grins. _Thank the Force._

The sound of canon fire suddenly breaks through the comm.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan calls, a bit panicked. "What's going on over there?"

"Another Sith!" Anakin replies. "There're a couple of ours down there with him!" He shouts something towards one of his troopers. "Doesn't look like it's going too well for them."

Concern washes over Obi-Wan's features. Mira starts to feel a little sick.

"Kriff!" Anakin barks. "He got one of them! The master, it looks like."

They make out a muffled scream:

"Get him out of there, Snips! Quick!"

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan yells.

Silence.

"Anakin!"

Mira holds her breath.

"She got him, Master," Anakin finally replies, relieved.

"Another padawan?" Obi-Wan queries.

"Affirmative." His voice mutes slightly as he shouts to his troopers. "Give him some space, boys! Let him catch his breath." Sighing, Anakin turns back to his com. "I'm going to ask him what happened. I'll catch you up to speed later. Skywalker out."

Exhaling, Obi-Wan runs his hand through his russet hair.

"So I'm not the only one," Mira says tentatively.

Obi-Wan turns to look at her. "I'm afraid so."

"What are we going to do, then?"

A sigh escapes the sage's lips. "I don't know, Commander. I just don't know."

 


	2. The Others

_Chapter 2: The Others_

Standing in a crowded cave. Watching the holonet for a causality list. It's a standard procedure, Mira knows, but this time around, it's much more solemn that usual. The soft drone of the clone troopers' conversations usually echoes through the corridors of the underground base, but today, silence is dominant.

They've suffered a great loss today, and they know it.

Clone ID after clone ID scrolls down the screen, and the tension in the room skyrockets. Next to the seemingly perpetual list is footage of the battle.

Every eye is glued to the screen. No one moves.

Suddenly, the names in the list switch over from the clone troopers to their Jedi leaders. Murmurs swiftly drift through the crowded room, and everyone holds their breath.

As each name appears, footage of their fall is shown next to it.

Mira shuts her eyes and hangs her head, the deep brown of her hood almost completely covering her olive-skinned face. Reluctantly, she looks back up at the screen, and tears prick at the corners of her eyes when she does.

_General Fidavar Drackon_ , the holo reads. _Eradicator: unknown_.

Footage of the duel with the Sith flashes on screen, and Mira turns away, the heat of unreleased tears hovering behind her grey eyes. She feels a hand on her shoulder from someone standing behind her.

"You, too?" an empathetic voice whispers.

Mira turns around, finding herself face to face with another Jedi, who looks to be about a year younger than she is. Her golden hair is swept back into a neat bun underneath her hood; her blue eyes shine empathetically. A long, blonde braid peeks out from beneath the folds of her robes, gently draping over her slim shoulder.

"Commander Tessa Vullen," she says, commiseration staining her crisp, Coruscanti accent. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Another shocked buzz emulates through the room, and Mira peers over her shoulder at the holo again. A flaming gunship rips on screen with several others racing in to help it. A Jedi is spotted standing on deck of one of the other LAATs, directing her clones to move closer to the inferno. Suddenly, the two gunships collide; both gas tanks burst into flames, and the ships explode.

Tessa's breath catches in her throat, and she sniffs.

Mira sighs. "I'm sorry for yours," she replies hesitantly.

Tessa manages a pursed-lipped smile. "Thank you, commander."

Mira grins. "You can call me Mira. I'm not much of a title person. Somebody calls me 'commander' and I feel like I'm in trouble."

Tessa chuckles. "Noted." The smile on her face fades into a concerned frown. "Force…" she mutters under her breath, her eyes wide with concern as they refocus on the holo.

Mira turns back around. Blurry footage of General Skywalker stepping out of a dense, black smoke carrying a large, brown bundle in his arms flashes across the screen. He looks over his shoulder and barks orders to his troops, a long piece of reddish-brown hair draping over his shoulder and a pair of arms desperately clinging to his back. He breaks into a sprint and disappears into the smog, several dozen clones covering him.

"The general," Mira whispers. "I talked to him just after this happened. He kept talking about that padawan he's holding." She sighs. "I hope she's alright."

Tessa nods. "As do I." She sighs. "For all of them."

"All of them?" Mira echoes, concern lacing her tired voice. "Mighty blasters, how many were there?"

"Five, including us. One's master was shot down by a legion of assassin droids just before the LAAT incident. It was on screen just before yours was. The padawan couldn't have been older than thirteen."

Mira shakes her head. "Force help us. Is he alright?"

"I heard he came out almost without a scratch. But other than that, I honestly don't know." Tessa's attention is suddenly recaptured by the holo. "There's the fifth," she says slowly.

Hesitantly turning around, Mira draws in a deep breath as she refocuses on the screen. The light from a ferocious lightsaber duel bleeds through the center of a thick cloud of dust. A LAAT hovers above it, kicking the filth out in all directions and pushing it away from the battle. Two Jedi appear, dueling another Force-user with a long, blood-red blade that nearly matches the tattoos that jut across his face.

Mira gapes. "It can't be…."

_I thought he was dead!_

The Sith suddenly springs backwards and Force-pushes the younger Jedi into the bottom of the LAAT, his body ricocheting off the metal and falling motionlessly to the ground. With a sadistic smirk stretched across his face, the Sith turns to face the master. Azure and crimson blades interlock and whirr around each other for several long standard seconds before the Sith rams a cybernetic foot into the master's gut.

The Sith locks him into a Force-choke, lifts him off the ground, and cuts off his head. His lightsaber lands next to his injured padawan.

A loud cry of despair is barely heard from above the roar of the LAAT engines. With shaking knees, the padawan slowly begins to advance on the Dark Lord, but is swept off his feet by a blast of Force-lightning.

But before the Sith can get any closer, a young Togrutan leaps from the LAAT, reflects another barrage of Sith-lightning, wraps a grappling hook around the weakened padawan, and shoots back up to the gunship, the padawan in tow.

Mira's jaw is on the ground. Tessa is speechless. The members of the 501st hastily whisper back and forth to each other, shocked.

Mira's eyes drop to the floor, fractions of the conversation with General Skywalker flooding back into her mind. She can still hear him shouting to his men to give the newly-rescued padawan some space, still hear him hurriedly relaying what he saw into the comlink.

She shutters. _Seeing it on the holo is one thing, but to have actually been there when it happened…._

Slowly, she raises her eyes and scans the crowd of clones clustered around her. A hooded figure stands in the front of the throng, the fluorescent light from the holo eerily casting shadows across his scowling, tear-stained face. His arms cross across his chest, and his eyes scowl at the floor. A dark brown padawan braid droops over his broad shoulder and peeks out from underneath his hood.

He suddenly catches Mira's gaze, returning it with a fierce glower set deep in his brown eyes. The pain in his face takes her aback, and she shyly casts her eyes back to the ground.

Suddenly, the beeping of several comlinks slices through the silence.

"Yes?" Mira answers.

Four others echo the same word around the room.

"Commanders," a familiar voice replies. "Your presence is requested in the west wing. General Skywalker and I have something urgent to speak with you about."


	3. The Pack

_Chapter 3: The Pack_

"Well," Tessa sighs. "I suppose we have somewhere to be." She quickly tucks her comlink back into the recesses of her cloak and smoothes the front of her robes. Her silhouette moves across the blue-lit room and stops.

"Coming?" she asks over her shoulder.

Mira's eyes are fixed on something across the chamber.

"Mira?"

Shaking the daze that had overcome her, Mira snaps back into reality. "Yeah," she says breathlessly, taking her hood down and following Tessa out into a long, cavernous hallway.

Stalagmites jut out from the floors, a few connecting to the tunnel's ceiling. A warmer light seeps into the entrance to the hallway, and Mira blinks as she trots to catch up with Tessa.

She glances at the golden haired padawan and finds a smile stretched across her fair-skinned face.

"What?" Mira asks.

"It just hit me who the man on the other side of the com was," Tessa says excitedly. "And who we are about to meet." She sighs, shaking her head a bit as her pace quickens. "This is a _huge_ honor, Mira, one that I have dreamed of receiving for most of my career."

Mira grins. "It really is. I was pretty flabbergasted when I realized who pulled me off the battlefield." She pauses, and a little bit of embarrassment brightens her face. "Especially after I grabbed him and bawled like a baby into his shoulder."

Tessa snickers. "How did that end?"

"I wasn't demoted, so well, I guess. He was very understanding."

"So I've heard. And you said you spoke with General Skywalker. What is he like?"

Two durasteel doors appear in front of the two padawans as they round the corner.

"I guess you're about to find out," Mira replies, a hint of nervousness beginning to knot in her stomach. She lets out a long breath and tries to gather her thoughts before reaching for the doors' control panel.

A few excited voices burst down the hallway, and she jerks her hand away and spins around. Two young padawans are hastily coming towards them, with a much older, much larger one looming behind them.

"Jix, I don't think you're getting how crazy this is!" one of the padawans gushes enthusiastically. " _My_ tears are on _his_ shoulder!" Her voice lowers. "And a little bit of my snot, too, but that's beside the point!" A large grin shoots across her face. "Mighty blasters," she sighs loudly.

"I can't compete with that," the second padawan says to himself, throwing his hands in the air in defeat. He wheels around to face the commander behind him. "Targon, how am I supposed to compete with that?"

"You _don't_ ," the third padawan snaps from across the hallway. "Now shut up."

"Whoa," the second padawan mumbles. "Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the cot."

"Commanders…?" Tessa says hesitantly.

"Oh, excuse me!" the first padawan exclaims. "I didn't see you there." A bright smile stretches across her face, her brown eyes sparkling. "Commander Rikki Win-Dell," she introduces, shaking hands with Tessa.

"Tessa Vullen," is the slightly taken aback response. She waves towards her silent comrade. "This is Commander Mira Rourke."

Rikki smiles, tucking a piece of her dark reddish-brown hair behind her ear as she shakes Mira's hand. "Nice to finally meet you two."

The second padawan clears his throat.

"Oh, and this nerfherder is Commander Jix Thanewulf."

A cocky grin sprawls across Jix's face. "Hey."

"Commander," Mira acknowledges.

"Call me Jix, sweetheart."

An aggravated sigh rumbles from behind them.

"Or not," Jix fairly squeaks.

"You're about to meet some of the best in the Order, Thanewulf," is the annoyed reply. "At least _try_ to be professional." The tension loosens in his voice. "Ignore him," he adds, looking at Mira. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

Mira stifles a smile and meets the padawan's gaze. The face staring back at her is bruised, burned, and scarred, with a square jaw and deep brown eyes.

It suddenly hits her that she's looking into the same hardened face that she saw in the command center.

"Commander Kyle Targon," he says curtly, firmly shaking Mira's hand. "We should probably head inside."

The doors slide open with a hiss, and the five padawans file inside.

"There you are," General Kenobi greets. "I trust you've been introduced."

"We have," Tessa replies formally.

"For better or for worse," Kyle adds under his breath, glaring sharply at Jix.

"Good," General Skywalker cuts in, pulling up a chair. "You're going to be seeing a lot of each other in the future. Go ahead and sit. We might be in here for a while."

Mira's heart starts pounding.

"Now," Anakin continues, leaning forward on his elbows. "I know today has been hard on all of you. It's been hard on the two of us, too. It's been a few years since I've seen casualties this heavy." He sighs. "But that's just part of the command. You have good days and you have bad days. It's learning from the bad days and pushing forward that's the hardest part of all. Trust me. I know that from my own experience. And I can honestly say that if I didn't have Obi-Wan or the rest of my command going through it with me, I might not be sitting here right now."

"Wars are not fought by one person for a reason," General Kenobi cuts in. "Even if it seems desperate or crazy, always stay with your wingman. Wing _men_ , in your case."

Five hearts simultaneously drop into stomachs, and the tension in the room skyrockets.

"Master," Tessa uneasily breaks the silence. "I mean no disrespect, but the first time a pack was created, it didn't exactly end well. There were no survivors."

"There was one," Anakin replies. "Me. And I _definitely_ wouldn't have made it had I been by myself. And Obi-Wan and I will be here with you, an advantage that we didn't have on Jabiim. We're not here to feed you to the sarlacc, commanders. We're trying to save you from it."

"And this will only be temporary," Obi-Wan adds. "At least until we can figure out what to do with you. As much as I would love to send you back home to Coruscant, this campaign cannot afford to lose you. Any of you."

Anakin nods in agreement, and the five commanders uneasily look back and forth at each other.

"So…" Kyle starts. "You're putting us with people we barely know and are somehow expecting us to survive? Because that worked _really_ well the first time."

Anakin sighs. "This is the best we can do right now, commander," he says, a don't-question-it edge hardening his voice. "We just need you to cooperate."

Mira's heart stops. Squeezing her eyes shut, she heaves a long, shaky sigh. General Skywalker continues to deliver more instructions, but Mira doesn't hear them. Fear's frigid voice echoes through her mind, sending chills down her spine and turning her heart to a block of ice.

"…and because he's been out here the longest, he'd probably be the best choice."

"Me?" Kyle nearly snaps, panic set heavily in his voice.

"You've been in combat since the day the war started," Obi-Wan rebuttals. "The others could benefit from your wisdom."

The padawan stares at his feet, speechless. Taking a deep breath, he squares his broad shoulders, lifts his head, and nods. "Yes, master."

Anakin grabs his shoulder. "Protect them," he orders. "That is your priority. Be the first one in the charge and the last in the retreat. You _look after them_. They're counting on you to get them home to Coruscant safely."

"Understood, master."

"And the rest of you. You're to follow him at all costs. Don't do anything he tells you not to; do everything he tells you to. Understood?"

Rikki and Jix shift uneasily, bug-eyed with shock. Tessa sharply inhales.

Mira slowly nods. "Yes, master."

"However," Anakin adds, walking across the room to Kyle. "You're not to order _anything_ without us knowing it and approving it first. Ignore that, and you've got yourself a one-way ticket to a court marshal."

"We've given you a great responsibility," Obi-Wan continues. "As well as a great honor. Don't squander it."

Anakin claps Kyle on the back. "Make us proud, Targon, not sorry."

Kyle nods.

Anakin turns to the rest of the pack. "Your second briefing is tomorrow morning. We'll see you then."

Obi-Wan smiles. "Now go get some rest. Force knows you all need it."

The two generals head for the door.

"You are dismissed, commanders," Anakin says. "If you should need anything, don't hesitate to come find us." He turns around and strides down the hallway, Obi-Wan on his heels, calling to Captain Rex as he goes.

"Well," Jix sighs, pushing his chair back and stretching, "I think I'm gonna go take a nap."

"I need food," Rikki says. "Anybody wanna come with me?"

Suddenly, the doors slam shut, and the lock turns.

"No one is going anywhere," Kyle commands. "Not until we're done here."

Tessa crosses her arms. "General Skywalker just dismissed us."

"But _I_ didn't. Sit."

The four cautiously make their way across the room, back to the chairs they had been sitting in.

"We have something important to discuss," Kyle nearly growls. "And _nothing_ is to leave this room."


	4. Commander Targon

_Chapter 4: Commander Targon_

"Make this quick, Targon," Rikki quips, arms tightly crossed over her chest. "I'm starving."

Kyle sharply raises an eyebrow, the glower that glazes over his deep brown eyes sending a swift warning to the defiant padawan that sits in front of him. "You won't speak unless you're spoken to," he snaps.

"So what's this about?" Mira tentatively asks, not daring to look the seething commander in the eye.

Kyle's body rigidly tenses as he pulls a small device from his pocket. He wordlessly holds it out in front of his leery comrades, the familiar hologram of a certain cyborg Sith jutting from the top of it.

"This is the Sith-spit that killed my master," Kyle discloses, his voice lethal.

A disbelieving smirk shoots across Jix's face. "I think you've lost it, Targon," he says, his voice laced with a suppressed snicker. "Maul's dead. He's _been_ dead."

"No," Kyle replies, a deadly smile stretching across his face. "But he will be once I'm done with him."

Mira's heart jumps into her throat.

Tessa's brow furrows. "What are you suggesting, commander?"

"We give him some time to cool off," Kyle starts. "To get settled. To think that we won't retaliate. Then we'll hunt him down and make him wish he'd never been born."

"So you wanna get even," Jix says, letting out a nervous breath. "And the rest of us fit into this how?"

"You're the diversion."

Mira's heart stops.

Rikki's jaw drops. "What?"

Tessa suddenly stands. "This is ridiculous, Targon!" she chastises, fighting to keep from raising her voice. "Absolutely ridiculous! And not to mention against the Code."

Kyle's heated stare bores into Tessa's eyes as he stiffly raises to his feet. "You really think I give a kriff about the Code right now?" he growls, massaging his hand into his sore back. "If you do, you're gravely mistaken."

Silence.

"What about the other one?" Rikki adds.

"What other one?" Kyle snaps.

"Maul has a brother," Mira explains. "He killed Drackon. What happens if we run into him?"

"We'll kill him," Kyle says flatly.

"It's not going to be that simple, Targon," Tessa retorts. "Drackon was one of the best in the Order, and Opress crushed him like he was made of glass. You saw the Holo."

"We'll have the element of surprise."

"You can't sneak up on a Sith Lord, commander," Mira says timidly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know. I _tried_. And I almost didn't live to see the end of it."

"And we're just padawans," Jix points out. "We try to take on Maul and Opress by ourselves and we're bantha poodoo."

" _You're_ not doing the fighting, Thanewulf," Kyle sharply corrects. "Leave that to me. I just need you to keep Opress distracted."

"And you think you're gonna beat Maul by yourself," Jix says snidely. "You're funny, Targon. Real funny."

"I won't be alone. I'll have Rourke with me. You and Win-Dell will take some of the boys to the other side and attack from the rear."

"Not a chance!" Rikki bursts. "The last time I went out there by myself, I almost died. We _all_ almost died. And yet you wanna go at it again. _Alone_. Correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems like the last time you charged at a Sith, you got fried. And you wouldn't be here if Tano hadn't been there to scoop you up last second. The chances of that happening again are so low it's funny." She sighs sharply. "I want on flying home in a Delta 7, Targon, not in a body bag."

"Exactly!" Tessa supports. Jix nods furiously.

Kyle turns. "What about you, Rourke? You think I'm out to get you killed?"

Mira stares at the ground, any attempt to stand up for herself dying on her shy tongue.

"No," Kyle finishes sharply. "You don't. And I'm not. I'll see you all in the hanger in an hour."

"Targon?" Tessa asks sharply.

"What?" Kyle snaps, his glare daring the other padawan to challenge him again.

"You've given everyone else their instructions. What do you want me to do?"

"You're the scout, Vullen. You're sneaky and wickedly smart. You've got a reputation for stealth back home. Time for you to live up to it."

"And how do you want us to move in?"

"We'll hit the ground first, and then once we're in, we'll call in the boys."

Tessa sighs. "That will never work."

"Why not?"

"Maul and his posse hunt like a pack of Tusken Raiders," Tessa explains. "They start by picking of the weakest and they work their way up. That means no matter where we go, we're prime targets."

"Are you calling me weak?"

"No. But compared to the Generals or several thousand clone troopers, you don't stand a chance against Maul. If you and Rourke go in first without a squad to protect you, then you _will_ die."

Kyle crosses his arms. "Why?" he challenges.

Rikki groans. "He's half-cyborg and six-foot ridiculous!" she cries. "And not to mention a Sith-Alchemist. The dude _drips_ with the Dark Side. If you or any of us try to duke it out with him, he'd break us like he was breaking a couple of toothpicks. You know that. He almost did it to you after he did it to Master Writte."

Kyle sighs, his eyes flashing with heated grief. "I'll see you all in the hangar in an hour," he repeats, anger steadily rising in his tired voice.

"But—" Jix starts.

"That's an order, commander!" Kyle barks. He shuts his eyes and quickly sighs. "Eighteen hours on the dot," he says, his voice softer. "You better not be late."

Tessa huffs. "Fine then," she says, taking a threatening step towards Kyle. "But I hope you're prepared to explain this break of protocol to the Council should we return."

The two glare at each other, neither person daring to drop their eyes.

"You're dismissed, commanders," Kyle finally growls.

Tessa sharply turns on her heel and storms through the door, a nervous Rikki and Jix on her heels.

Mira slowly stands from her chair and heads for the door, completely dumbfounded and terrified beyond belief. As her feet drag across the floor, she tries to block the intense fear that has started to infiltrate her mind. Closing her eyes tightly, she lets out a long sigh, something she had often seen Drackon do when he was stressed.

But when she opens her eyes and looks over her shoulder, she finds Kyle slumped in a chair with his head in his hands, his Force signature also a tidal wave of raw emotions.

Grief. Despair. Confusion.

Fear.

Mira's brow furrows. "Are you sure you know what you're doing, commander?" she asks softly, a bit of her concern softening her voice.

Kyle sighs. "Just go," he nearly whimpers.

Hesitantly, Mira moves away from the door and down the hallway, so deep in worried thought that she nearly runs into one of the 501st's best.

"Hey there, tough stuff," Ahsoka chimes sympathetically. "You doing okay?"

Mira sighs. "I guess I am."

Ahsoka grins and claps Mira on the back. "You hang there, commander. And if you need anything, you know where to find me. Pick your head up. It'll be okay."

Mira forces a smile.

If only she could believe that.

"You can always come and get me if you need me," the young Togrutan offers.

"Thanks, commander."

"Don't mention it. And you can call me Ahsoka."

Her com beeps.

"Where are you, Snips?" Anakin calls over.

"Hallway," Ahsoka replies. "I'll be right there." She turns to Mira. "I'll catch you later, Rourke," she says, briskly turning on her heel and walking away.

Mira nods. Her eyes drift to the open door behind her, the smile on her face fading into a worried frown.

Kyle hasn't moved a muscle; the torrent of confused emotion still rolls off his signature. Mira mostly feels like he deserves the pain for being so demanding. But a small part of her wants to go to him and try to console him.

Despite the fact that she may hate him to the marrow of his bones at the moment.

Slowly, Kyle stands, holding his back and grimacing. His terrified eyes meet and lock with Mira's before he edges across the floor.

Now he's standing in front of her, towering over her.

Mira's eyes drop.

"Go get some rest, commander," he says softly, trying to erase any hints of weakness from his voice. "There isn't much time before we have to leave."

Mira can only nod.

And as she watches him walk away, she wishes she had had the nerve to say something.


	5. The Mission Begins

_Chapter 5: The Mission Begins_

_You're not going home._

Any other thought that tries to penetrate her conscience is useless at the moment. With less than an hour between now and departure, Mira's mind reels like an out-of-control podracer, churning on one single thought.

_You're not going home_.

She's pretty much accepted it now. After two years on the battlefront, after only wanting to get home to Coruscant, she begins to realize that she will probably never see the towering walls of the Temple again.

Chills shoot down her spine, and she shutters.

"Commander?" a worried voice calls, but Mira doesn't hear.

The same eerily familiar whisper trickles through her mind again:

_You're not going home._

Her heart drops like lead into her stomach. Fear's cold fingers ripple across her back and curl at the base of her neck.

Though her body remains perfectly still, her signature shakes in its boots, wisps of the Dark Side curling around its ankles and trickling up its torso—

"Commander!" the person calls again, worry lacing his voice.

Mira starts and wheels around, her lightsaber absentmindedly leaping into her hand.

The gaze that she meets is gentle and concerned, and every midi-chlorian in her body screams with relief.

"Apologies, general," she whispers, replacing her saber. "I… I didn't hear you."

"Are you alright?" Anakin asks softly, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Mira sighs. "I will be," she stammers. "I… I think I'm just tired."

_And I've never been so kriffing scared in my life_.

The Hero gives her a look. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, master," she replies, her voice hardening as she crams her fear down her stomach.

"Alright then," the general says, leery of the padawan's fabricated confidence. "Go get some rest. Force knows you need it."

Mira nods hastily and starts back to her quarters without a word. If she can shut out the noise of her surroundings for a while, she may be able to clear her mind.

"Commander?"

She turns.

Anakin sighs. "There's something you're not telling me," he says, his arms folding across his chest.

"No there isn't," Mira lies hurriedly.

If she told him what was going on, Targon would probably kill her.

Anakin skeptically raises an eyebrow.

"I… I'll be fine," Mira continues. "I just need to be alone for a while."

Anakin motions down the hallway. "Then go," he says. "But if you do need to talk, _come find me_."

Mira nods. "Yes, master."

Anakin smiles reassuringly. "It's going to be alright," he says, and disappears around the corner.

Mira heaves a long sigh, slowly heading back down the hallway towards her quarters. As the door hisses shut behind her, she flops unceremoniously onto her cot and stares at the red-rock ceiling. Calling on the Living Force to surround her, she closes her eyes and envelops herself in meditation.

Her eyes suddenly snap open, and she finds herself standing alone in the First Hall of the Temple Archives, in front of an infamous line of busts. Hesitantly, Mira makes her way down the line, past the towering stacks of information that reach to the ceiling. She stops in front of the twentieth bust, her skin crawling as a bronzium Dooku lifelessly stares her in the face.

"Traitor," she murmurs.

"What was that?" a young voice chirps.

Mira turns and finds herself looking into the face of a newly-initiated padawan with large, expectant brown eyes.

She's seen that face before.

And the sheet-covered bronzium mass that towers behind him seems familiar, too.

_Mighty blasters,_ Mira thinks, shocked. _What did I miss?_

"You said something," the boy continues, nervously fiddling with the short, dark brown braid that hardly reaches his shoulder. He quickly turns around and stares at the bust, his young signature teeming with curiosity and slight disquiet.

Mira smiles. "It was nothing," she hastily blows off, looking at the ceiling.

"Sure it was," a familiar voice growls.

Startled, Mira's grey eyes dart back to the boy, who's suddenly grown into a tall, built young man. His azure lightsaber hums in his hand, and thin wisps of the Dark Side trickle from his signature.

He turns, his olive-skinned face covered in twisting burn scars. The light that once rested in his eyes has been replaced with rampant fury, and they've turned from deep brown to a smoggy yellow. Shimmering tearstains highlight his cheeks and run down the length of his neck.

" _Traitor_ ," he snarls, snatching the sheet from the top of the twenty-first bust. "They'll call _me_ the traitor now."

A sharp gasp rips from Mira's lungs, and her jaw drops.

"Targon…?" she whispers.

He takes a menacing step forward.

"Targon!" Mira nearly screams, quickly backing up and fumbling for her lightsaber. Her feet tangle beneath her, and she falls backwards.

With a loud smack, she collapses onto a red-stone floor, her lightsaber still clenched tightly in her hand. Scrambling to her feet, she wheels around to face the front door.

A loud sigh of relief tumbles from her lips.

She's back on Geonosis.

_Thank the Force._

Brushing a piece of chestnut brown hair out of her eyes, Mira slowly edges across the room to her cot and lazily throws the rough grey sheets over her pillow.

_Don't leave that wrinkled_ , Drackon would have gently chided.

A small smile etches across her face, and she gently smoothes the sheets back down. The familiar warmth of his approval spreads through her signature, though he may not be there directly to give it. Her hand hits her lightsaber and knocks it to the ground. Bending to pick it up and replace it on her belt, she rolls the weapon around in her palm, worry molding her face into a frown. She glances back at her cot, shaking her head.

"That might be the last time I ever do that," she murmurs to herself, nerves beginning to shake her voice.

The door suddenly hisses open, and Mira nearly jumps out of her skin. Her lightsaber leaps into her hand and ignites as she wheels around to face the intruder.

"Easy," Kyle says softly, holding out his hand as if he were trying to coax a frightened animal from a corner. "You're okay."

Mira' eyes clench shut, and a she sighs shakily. "I… I'm sorry," she stutters, extinguishing the emerald blade that rests idly in her hand. "I don't know why I—"

"It's alright," Kyle cuts off, a microscopic hint of commiseration resting in his deep voice. He sighs and pauses. "The others are already in the hanger," he reports roughly. "We leave in five minutes."

Mira can only nod in response.

"Come on," Kyle softly orders, nodding towards the open door before heading out. Mira hesitantly follows, her heart thumping hard in her chest.

Soundlessly weaving through the stalagmites, the two padawans quickly make their way towards the hanger. The sound of her own heartbeat thudding in her ears, Mira echoes Kyle's movements in a frightened stupor. Stalactites hang like giant hawk-bats from the ceiling; a few spare members of the 501st and 212th move past the commanders in a spectral haze.

The dying day's light pours into the hallway from a large open door at the end of it, and Kyle's pace quickens. Fighting to keep her trembling signature in check, Mira dubiously follows him, a warm breeze blowing her hair back. Her grey eyes squinting into the sun, she can barely make out the silhouette of a LAAT towards the mouth of the hanger, the tools strewn across the floor around it making it obvious that someone has been tinkering with it. A figure sits on top of one of the thrusters, swinging his feet and fiddling with a wrench.

"'Bout time ya showed up," Jix calls, dropping the tool and jumping down.

Kyle sighs. "How's the gunship?"

"Good as new," Rikki pipes up from under the ship. "She was having some engine trouble, but it's fixed now." Her head shoots up from her work, her caramel-skinned face smeared with black oil. She looks at the clone commander in the cockpit. "Let 'er rip."

The engine revs, and the gunship hovers above the hanger floor, blowing the older three commanders' robes back in the wind it creates. Rikki nods, the turbines die out, and the ship sinks to a stop.

Wiping her face with a dirty rag, the triumphant commander appears from the other side of the LAAT with a sneaky smirk attached to her face.

"Looks like you owe five credits, nerfherder," Rikki jabs, looking at Jix with an I-told-you-so gleam in her eyes.

Jix brushes his hand through his sandy hair.

"She's ready to go, Targon," Rikki reports, clapping the metal side of the gunship. "All she needs is a pilot."

"Great," Kyle replies. "I can't fly a LAAT." He turns to the remaining clone troopers behind him. "Any of you pilots?"

"Artillery, sir," one replies. "None of us are trained as pilots. We just… shoot things."

Mixed worry and anger boil from Kyle's signature. "What about any of you?" he says, turning to his pack members. "Win-Dell? You fixed this thing, so can you fly it?"

"Well…" Rikki squeaks, her brown eyes darting around the hanger. "If it were a Delta 7, I could…."

Kyle groans. "Vullen?"

"Negative," Tessa replies shortly.

Mira shakes her head.

"Thanewulf?"

Jix sighs nervously. "I can," he says slowly.

"Alright then," Kyle orders, motioning to the pack and the few clone troopers that haven't boarded a transport yet. "Load up."

"Right away," the clone responds, waving the others behind him to follow and board. Kyle hops on behind them.

Nerves begin to gnaw on stomachs, and the four remaining commanders remain frozen in place.

"Come on," Kyle snaps. "I'm not waiting forever."

Hesitantly, Rikki steps up behind him and moves into the gunner's seat.

Jix sighs. "Let's get this over with," he huffs, moving into the cockpit and starting the thrusters.

The wind from the LAAT blowing stray hairs from her neat bun, Tessa moves forward and takes a place beside her frustrated commanding officer.

"Rourke?"

Fear beginning to shake her body and her signature, Mira diffidently steps toward the gunship, a shaking hand fumbling for something to hang on to. Her body rocks as the ship leaves the ground and heads towards the open hanger door.

"Punch it, Thanewulf!" Kyle shouts. "Somebody's probably heard us by now."

With a shaking hand, the young pilot reaches for the thrust.

"Wait!" Jix suddenly begs, his voice corroded by fear. "You sure this is such a good idea, Targon? I can still land this thing if—"

"Just go!" Kyle barks, his patience beginning to run thin. "Now!"

Tessa sighs, aggravated. "Listen to him, Targon!" she bellows over the engines. "He's terrified, and for good reason! Call this bantha chase off before you get us all..."

Her argument dies on her tongue, and she takes a step backwards, blue eyes wide.

"Killed…."

Kyle looks back at the cockpit, a heated glare fastened in his eyes.

Mira sharply gasps, and her heart races.

Because instead of seeing the deep brown that usually inhabited his irises, she finds Kyle's eyes have turned a smoggy yellow.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," Mira says softly.

The LAAT shoots out of the hanger with several more on its tail.

Fear wafts from Kyle's signature, his now brown eyes wide. "It's too late now," he murmurs, his shaking hand rattling the strap he's holding onto.

As the base disappears into the distance, the entire platoon grows uneasy. The sun vanishes behind the craggy mountains, and the LAATs disappear into the clouds. Every soldier in the convoy retreats into himself, trying to bolster himself, but to no avail. Mira calls on the Force to comfort her, but her signature is too derailed for it to make a difference.

Standard minutes seem like hours. Stars whiz by as the gunships cut through the air, but no one can enjoy their beauty.

Suddenly the LAAT sinks from the sky, and every heart in the platoon freezes over. The clones standing behind the three older padawans shuffle and shoulder their arms.

The LAAT touches down.

"Well," Rikki mutters, standing up and jumping from the LAAT. "I guess this is it."

"We'll meet you on the other side, Targon," Jix says, a trembling hand reaching for his lightsaber. "May the Force be with you," he adds stiffly.

He and Rikki disappear into the darkness, and most of the LAATs soon take off behind them.

Kyle turns to Mira and Tessa. "Follow me," he orders, stepping out of the gunship.

The girls exchange nervous glances and obey, heading towards a large metal door with troops at their back and lightsabers in their hands.

Kyle's azure blade hums to life in his hand, ripping the door controls apart. With an ominous hiss, the door slides open, revealing a long, dark hallway in front of it.

"Stay close," Kyle commands, taking a step forward.

Mira takes a deep breath, ignites her own saber, and follows.

Now, she knows, there truly is no going back.


	6. The Compound

_Chapter 6: The Compound_

Dark.

Even with Kyle's lightsaber illuminating the cavernous hallways, there's an overwhelming amount of it. If she backed up five feet, Mira couldn't see her hand in front of her face. The azure light trembles on the walls as they move deeper in, their footsteps and the occasional, eerie creaking of distant equipment the only sounds to be heard.

Kyle's signature, tense with anticipation, holds the stability of a collapsing building.

_Fear_ _suffocates_ , Drackon had once said. It's just now that Mira realizes the validity of that statement. It squeezes the life from her signature, from Tessa's, especially from Targon's, so much that nothing else can be picked up on.

Almost like bleeding in a pool full of lambro sharks.

The scent of their fear is so overwhelming, every Sith within fifty parsecs of Geonosis should be able to smell it.

Maul must be choking on it.

Targon suddenly signals for them to stop. Cautiously, he peers around the corner, trying to decipher which fork to take, before finally waving Mira and Tessa on.

With heads on pivots, the three slowly make their way deeper into the compound. Suddenly Kyle coughs.

"Do you smell that?" he whispers sharply.

A muddy, flesh-burnt smoke wafts up Mira's nose, and she gags. "Something's… burning."

Tessa's head suddenly jerks forward in alarm, and she shoves her two counterparts hard against the wall.

"What—"

" _Quiet_!"

Kyle's lightsaber hisses off, and he cranes his neck around Tessa to watch for threats. Metallic clinking echoes down the corridor, and a squadron of battle droids marches past them.

"How many?" one of the Clones whispers.

Tessa holds up eight fingers behind her back.

Mira's lightsaber jumps to her hand; Tessa carefully removes hers from its covertec clip.

_We take them together_.

Three lightsabers ignite in unison, and eight battle droids are reduced to smoking remains in a flash of blue and green.

"Let's move," Kyle mutters, nodding down the hallway. He turns to the sergeant standing next to him. "Take the squad up ahead and wipe out anything you see. We'll come in behind you."

"Right away."

As he watches the clones go, Kyle sighs. "Someone's bound to have heard that."

Blasterfire cuts through the air.

"Somebody heard that."

A loud clanking spins down the hallway towards them, and three deflector shields pop out of the darkness like bubbles of electric blue lightning.

The droidekas open fire. A barrage of laser bolts rains on the padawans, all of which struggle to block them.

Kyle suddenly charges forward, leaping above one of the destroyers and ramming his lightsaber as hard as he can into the top of the shield, dismantling it. Reaching into the Force, Mira throws the droid into the wall, shattering it to pieces with a _bang_. The shield on the second droidekas flickers out, and Tessa sends it hurtling into the third. The three rush forward to look for their troops.

They find all of them are dead.

"So much for a surprise attack," Kyle growls, extinguishing his blade with an angry flip of his wrist. "No doubt they know we're here. And where in Corellian hell are Win-Dell and Thanewulf with the rest of the troops?"

"They may have already been engaged," Tessa says, carefully replacing her lightsaber on her belt. "Given the amount of unwelcome visits we've already had, it wouldn't surprise me. Either that or they've not found the way in yet."

Kyle sighs. "We're drawing a lot of unwanted attention."

"What an epiphany, commander," Tessa snaps dryly. "What gave you that idea?"

Kyle scoffs. "Oh, shut up."

A tense silence strangles the air.

"We'll be much harder to track down if we're not in a group," Mira finally whispers, breaking the silence.

Kyle sharply turns on his heel. "Are you out of your mind?" he retorts. "All of us together are a lot harder to take down than one by ourselves!"

Tessa holds up her hand. "She has a point, commander. Together we draw a lot more attention than we would apart."

"Yeah. And Maul will have a much easier time gutting me if I'm by myself with no one to cover for me!"

Tessa's brow furrows. "Oh. How strange. I didn't think we were supposed to be doing the fighting."

"Vullen—"

"What? Are you actually admitting you need our help? Or do you want someone to hold your hand while we work our way out of this mess that _you_ dragged us into?"

"Hey!" Mira suddenly barks.

The other two padawans, taken aback by the severity of Mira's interruption, fall silent.

"I don't know if you two have noticed, but right now, we're sitting ducks. The longer we sit here and fight, the more time Maul has to figure out we're here in the first place. You want to come out of here alive? We won't if we keep this up!"

Tessa purses her lips and sighs through her nose. Kyle's eyes drop to the floor. He's automatically glad the room is so dark, because his cheeks burn red with embarrassment. For being called out, for being wrong.

Swiftly it turns to anger.

He won't be labeled a coward – especially not by some of the bravest people he has ever met in his life. Even if he is one.

He can't let them see in that far.

Kyle sighs. "Vullen, go back and head down that other hallway we passed. Rourke, you stay with me until we run across another fork. Then the two of us can split up."

Tessa nods, her signature smiling a little smugly as she winds back down the hallway without making a sound.

Kyle glances at Mira. "Come on," he says shortly.

He starts off down the hallway, Mira closely following.

Some of him wishes that fork will be right in front of him. Most of him hopes it will never show up at all.

Several paces later, that hope is shattered.

He stops. Mira walks on.

"Be careful," he whispers.

He's not sure she heard him, nor is he sure that she cares.

As Mira's shadow disappears into the darkness, the Dark Side seizes his heart, pounding on its walls like heavy artillery and curling at the base of his neck in an icy ball.

He is alone. With a Sith Lord nearby.

And he is certain he just dragged everyone to their deaths.

"Kriff," he whispers, his fingers tightening around his lightsaber. "What have I done?"

* * *

Sitting in the darkness, at the end of a winding cavern hallway, a shadow's mind drifts into the inviting fog of the Dark Side. As though in a dream, his conscience walks back to the battle his underutilized body is stiffened from. He sees the anguished expression on the idiotic boy's face, hears his wail tearing through the air, feels the Force sagging as another life in the light drops from the frame of existence.

In spite of himself, the Sith Lord smirks.

Though the fight had been almost painfully one-sided, it didn't make it any less exhilarating then, and it _certainly_ doesn't make it any less exhilarating now.

His gloved thumb running over the controls of the dead Jedi Master's lightsaber, Darth Maul relishes his first major kill since his… transformation. It had almost been _too_ easy, he thinks, hacking his way though an entire squad of clone troopers and, finally, once he got him cornered, taking down the Jedi.

If only that little _rat_ hadn't escaped, he'd now be pinching two azure-bladed weapons between his claws.

The yellow-toothed smile that tugged at his tattooed lips sinks to a frown.

He shouldn't have escaped. And yet—

A deafening screech punctures the silence, followed by a series of loud cracks.

_Well_ , he thinks. _At least I'm not the only one failing._

Heavy footsteps echo down the silent corridor, and the Sith Lord's amber eyes exasperatedly roll up to search for the intruder. A massive silhouette stands in the threshold, holding a long, disjointed body off the ground by its ankles.

The smell of burnt flesh wafts up Maul's nose. He scoffs.

"Did it say anything?" Maul growls, dropping his gaze from the figure.

"Not a word," Savage reports, stepping into the dim light and carelessly tossing the mangled, smoking remains of a Geonosian onto the stone floor. "Their heads are as hard as their hides. They'll all die before they'll disclose those plans."

Maul sighs, slowly unfolding himself from a sitting position and lurking across the floor. "The _fools_ ," he growls. "I thought they had learned not to play keep away with us upon our arrival." He stalks towards the dead Geonosian, towering menacingly over the body like a hungry krayt dragon over its next meal. "I guess they'll need some more… _coaxing_ , then."

Savage turns and nods to the battle droid standing behind him. "Bring them in, sergeant," he orders.

The droid nods and wordlessly marches down the hallway, waving his squad on with him as the clicking of their metal feet echo through the chasm.

Silence.

A cacophony of clicks and frightened squawks shrieks in Maul's ears. He fights to keep from rolling his eyes.

_Slime_.

With some effort, the droids herd the squabbling aliens into Maul's chasmal chamber. His face resembling stone, the Sith Lord stalks across the floor, to the hoard of hysteric Geonosians. Hurriedly, they click and squawk back and forth to one another, their desperate calls bouncing off the walls of their enclosure. As the Dark Lord slithers down the line, his ocher eyes burning into the souls of every last one of his prisoners, he sneers, relishing in what is about to become his greatest victory.

Though he stands erect a statue, the tallest and most respected of the Geonosian hostages violently trembles within the Force.

Sidious would be so proud.

Maul chuckles, his tattooed lips curling into a menacing smile. "Such _prowess_ ," he hisses, craning his neck like a spined viper set for the kill. "It's no wonder these squabbling miscreants look up to you." His amber eyes narrow into demonic slits. "Tell me… _scum…_ why do you think you are here?"

His face is so close to the Geonosian's that they're nearly nose-to-nose.

But the alien makes no reply.

"There is a task that I require of you," Maul continues, stepping back and snaking across the room as he speaks. "One that I know I could not complete by my own hand. You and your counterparts are renowned galaxy-wide as master weaponsmiths. The work of you hands has been the thorn in the side of the Republic since the day they were created."

He takes a threatening step closer to the Geonosian, whose beady, yellow eyes remain fixed to the floor.

"The droids I… apprehended… from the Confederacy of Independent Systems have aided me greatly, but they will not last forever. I need something more sustainable, something large and powerful enough to take entire systems. And I know there is no one in the Galaxy more capable of giving that to me than you and your team. That is why you are here."

The Geonosian squares his shoulders and flaps his wings defiantly, and Maul pounces on him like a hungry nexu.

"I know how stubborn you are," he growls. "Your loyalties lie with the Confederacy. To those you hate, you're as slippery as a greased Dug. You're _shrewd_. And you can be downright cruel. But you will find that I am far crueler than you could ever dream to be. I am not afraid to kill to get what I want. Your lives are worthless to me, but the information they carry with them is priceless. That is the _only reason_ you are still alive."

The seasoned politician's stony composure finally begins to crack.

Maul throws him off the ground and up into a Force choke, and it completely shatters.

"I am only going to say this once, slime," he rabidly warns. "You will give me those plans. You will build me an army. And if you even _think_ of resisting me, you _will_ die."

* * *

_Well,_ Jix says to himself, shaking his head exasperatedly. _This just went to Corellian hell in a hand basket._

Smoke pours from a blast door's shot control panel as Jix dejectedly drags himself up the craggy hill to his men for the ninth – no, _tenth_ time. Hotwiring usually does the trick, he knows, but this time, for whatever reason, it hadn't.

"Great news, everybody!" Jix announces sarcastically when he reaches the top of the hill. "We're stuck here." His hazel eyes scan his platoon. "Where's Win-Dell?"

Rikki pushes her way to the front of the crowd. "Did you get it, Thanewulf?"

Jix shakes his head. "As soon as those wires touched, the whole panel sparked like borealis skyfire."

"Awesome," Rikki chirps bitingly. "Great work, commander."

Jix scoffs. "You wanna try, Win-Dell?" he snaps, stretching his hand out to the blast doors.

The padawan shakes her head. "Not really. No."

"That's what I thought," Jix clips, putting his hands on his hips.

Rikki sighs. "Well, there's more than one way in."

A mistrusting gleam works its way into Jix's gaze. "What are you thinking of?"

Rikki flashes a grin at him and turns to the troops behind her. "Start up those mass-drivers, boys! If we can't open that door, we'll just have to blast it!"

"Hey, wait a sec sweetheart!" Jix retorts, putting a restraining hand on Rikki's small shoulder. "You sure that's such a good idea?"

"What'd you expect me to do?" Rikki snaps. "Ring the doorbell?"

"You're gonna set off the alarms!"

"I will not. It'll be fine! _Trust_ me." She looks back at the platoon. "Alrighty sergeant! Let 'em have it!"

The Clone nods. "Concentrate all fire on the blast doors!" he barks.

* * *

The Geonosian's yellow eyes stare defiantly back into Maul's. Unshaken, the Sith Lord only scoffs and tightens his grip.

Squawks and screeches of protest, mixed with the mechanical reverberations of frustrated combat droids, completely fill the room with sound.

Maul smiles. The sweet aroma of their panic feeds his determination even further. Although, he supposes, the great engineer he holds in his clutches will be of better use to him _alive…._

The Geonosian falls like deadweight out of the air, hacking and fumbling for the long, bone-colored staff he carries with him. He straightens, and his companions cluster to him for safety.

His beady yellow eyes still hold that defiant stare. Maul inwardly shrugs.

Poggle is famous for his resolve, and he certainly lived up to his reputation.

The Sith Lord sneers. "I look forward to your—"

_Boom, boom, boom._

Dust falls through cracks in the ceiling upon impact, and the entire room shakes.

"Cooperation…." Maul's eyes widen.

"Brother!" Savage barks, pointing to one of many screaming alarms. "The Jedi!"


	7. Darth Maul

_Chapter 7: Darth Maul_

Sirens scream through the corridors, and a bright red light pulses with the sound. Artillery thunders in the distance, raining dust and loose rock down on top of her as it slams into its target. Throwing her hood up, the padawan fights desperately to remain calm. She stoops and sprints across the Geonosian rock floor, looking for somewhere – anywhere – to dive into.

Finally, a small opening in the wall presents itself, and the young Jedi slides through it, pulling herself along with her hands. Two tall edifices of rock stretch into a long, thin hallway, making a canyon of sorts. A golden light glows towards the end.

A mechanical groaning echoes through the corridor, and the closer Tessa gets to the end of the hallway, the louder it becomes. Sighing in relief as the rock releases its grip on her, she stealthily crawls forward, inching towards the light.

Cautiously she enters, every midichlorian in her system on high alert.

Her icy blue eyes darting around the room, Tessa gathers a quick summary of her surroundings. Cavernous walls stretch up as far as she can see, fading into the darkness before they can reach the ceiling. The light she had been following juts out across the floor from another long, wide hallway, the grinding and clanking of machinery accompanying it. A black table sits in the middle of the room, with the dissected bodies of two battle droids – standard and super – strewn across it.

Slowly, the padawan inches her way across the room, her eyes locked onto the peculiar assembly of parts. She stops, her brow furrowing as her hands float over the pieces, as if searching through them without touching them.

It's then she notices the jagged black burn lines that gyrate across the wall and down to the floor in front of her, jutting across the red stone like black streaks of lightning.

She kneels, tracing her fingers over the soot, recoiling with a slight gasp as the cold chill of the Dark Side shoots down her spine upon contact.

_What happened here?_

The mechanical drone pounds in her ears, seeming to grow in volume with every pulse.

Slowly, Tessa stands, turning and walking towards the sound. Her fingers tighten around her lightsaber. She passes the threshold, finding herself standing on a ledge made of durasteel.

Gaping down at a fully-operational Geonosian droid factory.

Completely frozen, she stands and watches the movement of the assembly lines in complete shock. Part of her wonders if Targon has found this yet. Or if Rourke has. Part of her wonders if they are still alive to find it.

Blowing a rattled sigh from between her lips, Tessa's eyes move upwards, locking onto a catwalk that stretches over the top of the factory like a bridge. To the left, it stops in the middle of the ceiling, but to the right, it stretches over to the wall. Overtop of the wall.

That, she decides, will be her escape route.

Gathering all the strength she has and calling on the Force, Tessa springs from the platform and sails towards the catwalk, her fingers locking around the railing as she pulls herself up. Her boots his the metal with a soft _clink_. The sounds of the factory fade in her ears as she inches towards her exit. Though the closer she gets, the more anxious she becomes.

The thicker – the colder – the shroud of the Dark Side grows.

She swallows. Her feet pass over the wall.

An eerie green light creeps across the room like fog, unnerving the padawan even further. Panicked footsteps suddenly pound across the floor, and two figures – one several meters in front of the other – sprint into the cavern.

Targon and Rourke must have rejoined forces as soon as the alarms went off.

"Go!" Kyle bellows, his voice saturated with panic. "Find the others! Get out!"

Mira disappears into the blackness.

But to Tessa's shock, Kyle doesn't follow. With a hardened face, he turns on his heel, his lightsaber jumping into his hand and igniting.

* * *

Fear nearly strangles his signature, but Kyle's efforts to conceal it are impressive.

"Coward!" he suddenly roars, his head whipping around in the darkness. Though he is terrified, a new scent – the scent of his anger – rolls off his signature. A strange authority chars his voice. "You could crush me with one wave of your hand, and yet you still run and hide! If you were half the demon you're supposed to be, you'd come out and face me head on!"

His body suddenly jerks into the air, his hands clawing at his neck as his lightsaber drops idly to the ground. A hooded shadow slithers forwards, his hand raised in a deadly fist.

The glow of his amber eyes sears through his victim, their light casting enough of a reflection on his face to reveal his tattooed lips curling into a sadistic, sharp-toothed smile.

" _Fool_ ," Maul hisses, tightening his grip gleefully. "I wish you would not challenge what you know you cannot defeat."

Kyle's eyes flash.

"Oh," Maul taunts, his face softening with mock sympathy. "What would your master say if he could see you now?"

With enough force to bring down the ceiling on top of them, the Sith Lord slams his prize into the floor, pouncing on top of him and wrapping his clawing fingers around the padawan's broad shoulders. His sneering face looming only a few inches in front of Kyle's, his lips pull back into a hiss:

"He would see a _failure_."

A swift kick to the gut, powered by the Force, is the only response he receives. Hardly deterred, the Sith Lord tangles a finger under Kyle's jaw, wrenching it upwards so the padawan was forced to look at him.

His demonic eyes bore into his prey.

"I am _not_ afraid of you," Kyle bites, his voice – the muscles in his face – shaking with suppressed anger.

"Oh, please," the Sith Lord hisses.

With a jerk, Maul suddenly pins the young man's body to the floor with the Force. He slithers around the room, his hand outstretched to keep the lock on his victim.

Desperately, Kyle fights back. A strained growl tears from his lips.

The Sith only tightens his grip, smirking. Suddenly he releases his prisoner, stooping next to him as he fights to catch his breath.

"You will tell me where the others are," Maul commands, his voice lowering into a hissing whisper.

"What others?" Kyle breathes.

Maul rolls his eyes, groans, and regains his hold. Kyle cries out under the weight.

"Don't try to play the fool with me, boy. I will crush you."

The Sith Lord puts more weight behind his hand, and another surge from the Dark Side rams into the padawan's heaving chest.

"I will ask you again. Where are the others?"

Defiance flashes behind Kyle's eyes.

Maul's grip only hardens. Kyle finds it hard to breathe.

"Where are they?" Maul snarls.

Kyle manages an insolent grin. "You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that, Sithspit, if you want me to talk."

The Sith Lord's response nearly knocks him out.

* * *

Panic ravishes Tessa's signature. Her hands shaking, she reaches for her comlink.

Targon will probably never forgive her for what she is about to do, she knows, but at least he would be alive to hold the grudge.

He'll be thanking her. Even if he gets expelled, he should be thanking her for his life.

Her thumb mashing into the controls, she raises the device to her mouth and waits. After what seems like an eternity, the voice she's looking for emerges on the other side:

"Skywalker, here."

"General," she says, her voice low and shaking with fear.

"Commander Vullen!" Anakin nearly shouts. "Where are you? We've turned base upside down looking for you!"

Silence.

Anakin's voice drops. "You're not on base, are you?"

Tessa heaves a deep breath, squeezing her cerulean eyes shut. "Affirmative, Master," she quakes.

Anakin takes a deep breath, obviously fighting to keep his anger restrained. He quietly waits for an explanation.

"We were just following orders, Master!" she suddenly gushes, panicked. "No matter what we said, we couldn't convince him otherwise!"

"Give me your coordinates, Commander," Anakin says, his tone softening as he picks up on the padawan's fear. "Then we _will_ be there."

Tessa's shaking fingers dance across the comlink's small controls, sighing in relief as it beeps in approval.

"Got 'em," Anakin confirms. "Don't worry, Tess. I'm coming."

Obi-Wan's worried voice cuts through the comm. "What's going on?"

"They're not on base," Anakin reports. "And neither are those missing platoons."

"What on Earth are they doing?"

Tessa sighs. "Targon wanted vengeance. He's fighting with Maul right now. And…."

Her voice trails off, and her eyes bug.

"What, Commander?"

"Oh, no…."

* * *

Maul's grip suddenly relaxes, and his head shoots up like nexu sniffing out blood. His tattooed face twists into a vicious smile.

"Tight lips only ever serve you for so long, Jedi," Maul jeers, slowly rising. His eyes peel through the darkness. "It's alright," he sweetly calls, his voice echoing around the room. "I'm not going to kill him, my darling. Not yet."

Mira's entire body shakes, her eyes filling with terrified tears. The cold weight of the Dark Side that bogs down her shoulders has become too much to fight off. Its icy fingers curl around her heart, choking the last of her courage from it.

Maul chuckles. "You needn't hide for any longer, my pet," he purrs, taking a step in Mira's direction. "I know where you are." He smirks, his head tilting up as he inhales. "I can _smell_ your fear. Taste your anxiety. You revealed yourself before you ever tried to hide."

He pauses, and his amber eyes lock with Mira's.

"Brother," Maul calls.

Heavy footsteps echo across the room, and Savage appears behind his brother. Maul turns his head in his direction.

"Claim your prize," he instructs.

Savage storms forward.

"Don't touch her!" Kyle cries.

Maul's durasteel foot rams into his gut.

"No!" Mira suddenly screams. Her voice is shaking. "Please!"

A massive, gloved hand smothers her voice as her body is lifted from the ground in an iron grip. Panicked, she starts to struggle.

"Fight me," Savage growls in her ear, "and I'll snap your spine in two."

She sees Kyle try to stand. Maul pins him back down with the Force.

"Animal!" Kyle lividly barks, flailing as he fights against Maul's grip. "Let her go, or I will tear you to shreds!"

Maul's head slowly turns. "Oooh," he hisses, eerily calm. "Those are dark words for a Jedi." His eyes roll back towards Mira. "Quite _passionate_ , don't you think, my dear?"

Mira's eyes lock with Kyle's. Behind the rage – the obvious fear – something else rests in his eyes.

Something that Mira has never seen before.

The Sith Lord's amber eyes flick between to the two padawans, a deep, unsettling chuckle rising from his throat as a nasty grin contorts his face. He turns back towards Kyle, jeering triumphantly.

"Brother," he croons. "I believe we may have found this boy's weakness." He nods towards the floor. "Drop her."

Mira's stomach rises into her throat as she plummets towards the ground. Maul's long finger curls underneath her chin, his thumb softly stroking the side of her face. A few tears stream down her face.

"Shh," the Sith hisses, mockingly wiping them away.

Kyle fights to stand.

Maul groans. "Restrain him."

Savage roughly grabs Kyle's arms, pinning them behind him. The padawan furiously scrambles to break free from his grip, but brute physical strength, he finds, is still no match for the Force. Savage effectively locks him in place with it.

Maul looks over his shoulder at Kyle. "Your own affliction, Jedi, it seems you care nothing about."

Kyle squirms.

"But _the girl's_ ," Maul whispers, his face less than an inch away from Mira's. His breath slinks across her skin. "You would throw your life down for her."

Mira's brow knots, and she looks up at Kyle.

_What does he mean?_ she whispers through the Force.

_He's not lying, Mira_ , is the stalwart reply. _He's just blowing things out of proportion_.

_Or am I?_ Maul hisses. _I can hear everything you're saying, Commander. You can hide nothing from me_.

Kyle's face falls with defeat. Mira's wrinkles with confusion.

"I will ask you one more time, Jedi," Maul spits, standing to his full height. "Where are the others? How many of your men have you brought with you?"

Kyle takes a deep breath.

But the words die on his tongue.

"Fine," Maul growls. "If I can't make you talk, scum—"

His head slowly turns towards Mira.

"—I'll make her _scream_."

He stretches out his hand.

And a barrage of Force lightning completely encases her, the sounds of her desperate screams ripping through the corridor.


	8. The Edge

_Chapter 8: The Edge_

" _Mira!_ "

The more she screams, the more Kyle struggles. Guilt strangles him. Throughout the corridor the crackling of the lightning echoes, bouncing off the walls in a cacophony of mockery. Everything in him fights against the chains of the dark side that effectively pin him in place, but there is nothing he can do.

Except watch in horror as one of his comrades dies because of him.

Sprinkled between the bursts of Maul's dark attack, Mira desperately calls to him for help. Squirms in agony as she looks for an escape from the pain. Panics when she realizes there is none. Only one thing rises above the tormenting whirl of Kyle's confusion as he watches her struggle: Sheer, unbridled anger.

The kind that, in the hands of a Jedi, is darkly lethal.

"Let her go!" he suddenly barks.

Maul sneers, releases his prey, and turns to face the disgruntled padawan, amber eyes searing a hole into the his furious courage. Kyle, though clearly shaken, fights for the authority in the stare down.

"Now you are privy to a negotiation?" Maul taunts, his snarling, tattooed face inches from Kyle's.

Kyle's brown eyes flick to the limp, smoking heap on the ground in front of him, panic surging inside him like floodwaters breaking a dam. This hadn't been the plan, and it certainly hadn't his intention.

_That shouldn't be her_ , he thinks, bile slithering up the back of his throat as the sickening weight of what he's done falls on his shoulders, crushing him in an avalanche of guilt.

"Come now," Maul continues, his voice low. "You know what I need. And you've just now worked up the courage to give it to me." The Sith's face looms inches in front of Kyle's. "So I suggest you speak now, boy, while I'm still feeling benevolent enough to listen to you."

From across the room, Mira moans, crying out as she struggles to stand. Once again, Kyle's voice fails him.

"If you tell me where the others are," Maul purrs. "If you tell me where you've come from – why you're here – then I will spare her."

Kyle's heart rate surges.

"I will spare her." Maul straightens, repeating himself with false compassion. "And in so doing, I will spare you from the guilt of knowing her death – her pain – was caused by _you_."

Kyle scoffs darkly. _Nothing will be able to save me from that_.

"So," the Sith Lord softly tempts. "Tell me."

"T-Targon," Mira coughs. "Don't—"

Maul turns viciously, releasing another barrage of lightning from his fingertips and smirking sadistically as it slams into his victim.

"Too late, I suppose," he sneers. He turns back to Mira, increasing the intensity of the bolts surging from his hand. "So, my pet," he demands over the crackling. "How does it feel to know that he has abandoned you?"

Kyle fights to sit up. A swift kick from Savage immobilizes him yet again.

"Commander Targon," Maul calls, his demonic form twisting to look the padawan dead in the eye. "You know you can stop this. I feel it within you. The raw power of your anger. It is there. Use it – embrace fullness of your ability in the Force – and you can save her and yourself without dropping any secrets."

The crushing weight of the Force eases from around Kyle's broad shoulders. As if releasing a wild animal from its cage, Savage hastily steps backwards, giving the seething padawan space.

Giving himself a good vantage point to watch the coming fall.

His hands shaking, Kyle calls his lightsaber to his hand, taking a few hulking, menacing steps towards his adversary.

"Oooo," Maul laughs, a sneer contorting his face as he holds up his hands in mock surrender. "I didn't think you would actually do it, boy." His eyes rake his livid opponent. "Such promise," he hisses. "Had only _I_ found you before Writte did—"

Bellowing a battle cry, Kyle raises his lightsaber into a Djem So attack position and charges.

But his blow never falls.

The blast doors fly open behind them, and clone troopers pour through the threshold, opening fire on the Sith. A lightsaber ignites over the fire.

" _Stay back!_ " a familiar voice thunders.

Anakin.

The older Jedi descends from the ramp in a graceful front flip, walking towards Maul with a righteous anger in his eyes and gait. Authority oozes from the general's signature, one mighty enough to make the Sith Lord take a few hurried steps back.

Anakin's lightsaber groans though the air as he charges and engages Maul in a vicious, hand-to-hand duel. Reaching out with the Force, he throws an unsuspecting Savage into the wall hard enough to knock him out before turning back to his original target.

"Run, Targon!" Anakin calls. "While you still can, get out!"

Without thinking twice, Kyle stands and bolts through the door, panic nipping at his heels. The Clone trooper platoon covers his escape. Pelting, he surges down the winding hallway through which he came. Relief winds him as the light at the end of the dark tunnel grows into an opening. LAATs lands at the mouth of the cave. In the distance, he makes out Commander Vullen stepping onto one of the gunships, Win-Dell and Thanewulf just behind her and General Kenobi behind them.

Almost there, he tells himself. Almost there—

_Help me…._

The words, weakly whispered through the Force, make him stop dead in his tracks.

_Someone… please…._

Repulsor engines roar in front of him, thundering down the length of the tunnel. He's close enough to them that the wind they create whips through his robes. Escape is within his grasp.

_Help me!_ The voice, once hardly audible, now shrieks through the Force. _He's coming back!_

Kyle's jaw hardens.

He's already done more than enough to earn a court marshaling – even expulsion – so his last act as a member of the Jedi Order might as well be a good one.

Turning on his heel, he ignites his lightsaber and charges back down the tunnel.

* * *

Through clouded eyes, Mira watches in horror as Savage slowly rises from the ground, picking Anakin up with the Force and hurling him across the room.

"I'll finish him," his voice booms. "Go finish her."

Snarling, Maul straightens, fingers pulsing with dark energy as he stalks across the room towards his victim.

Mira's entire body begins to shake with frightened, strangled sobs. She wills her legs to stand, her body to run, but her muscles won't respond to her commands.

Light beads at Mauls' fingertips.

She's encased again and thrown into a wall, screaming in agony and fear as the lightning sears all over her body. Fighting to stay conscious, she suddenly goes limp, the pain and suffocation from the dark side becoming too much to bear. Her ears ring. A dull throb erupts at the base of one of her ribs. Is it broken? Or is that a deeper burn? She tries to take a deep breath and raggedly coughs. Even breathing, now, is agonizing.

It would be easy, she tells herself. To close her eyes, to give up the fight, to slip into the Netherworld and return to her master's side—

The blast doors hiss open again, the humming of a lightsaber cutting through the air. A familiar presence registers in the Force, but Mira is too addled to pair a face with it. Is it…

Skywalker. It has to be. And… and Kenobi is the one fighting Maul. Right?

_Yes, it has to be. Targon ran. Force knows he isn't coming back._

Force signatures blur together as Mira's consciousness ebbs. Someone calls her name – she's convinced its Skywalker – and charges into the room, kneeling by her side and gently lifting her into his arms.

She's able to rest her head on her rescuer's shoulder before everything goes black.

* * *

_Anakin!_

Even over the clashing of lightsabers, Obi-Wan's voice is stalwart in the Force. A ghost of a smile quivers on Anakin's lips.

Nearly three years have passed since he had reached Knighthood, but the Jedi Master's old habits die hard.

_Coming, Master_ , he calls back, shoving both Sith into the Geonosian rock around him before pelting down the corridor. _Is everyone out?_

_Yes, Anakin._ Unbridled sass laces Obi-Wan's next observation. _Everyone but you._

_I'm working on that!_

Anakin's certain he's running so hard, even his Force signature is panting. A LAAT surges into view, and calling on the Force, Anakin springs into it, switching off his lightsaber before hitting the durasteel.

He looks around, winded. Rex nods a silent greeting.

"Well, " the Clone sarcastically clips. "That was… fun."

Anakin huffs, fixing the captain with a tired glare. "You don't say."

The wind cutting through his mop of sweaty, dirt-blonde hair, Anakin looks out over the formation of gunships he's traveling in. A Jedi's silhouette – one that can only belong to Obi-Wan – darkens the sunrise.

"We get 'em all?" Anakin pants, looking to Rex.

"Yes, General," Rex replies, nodding. "It's nothing short of a miracle, but all five made it out."

Anakin's brow knots. "Targon split the second I told him to. The other three were in the process of loading up when I touched down. Rourke…" He took a deep breath. "She didn't make it. She's… she's still back there. We'll have to launch another assault – a planned one – to rescue…."

His blue eyes drift to another LAAT, to another pair of silhouettes that sit in the floor.

"Holy kriff," Anakin sighs, smiling with a tinge of pride. "He went back for her."

Targon cradles Mira's limp body in his arms, gently running his fingers through her singed hair. A few medics bustle around the grief-stricken padawan, fitting a breathing mask to Mira's burned face while trying to assess the extent of the damage done.

And when Kyle looks up – when the rising sun illuminates his face – Anakin sees tears streaming down his cheeks.


	9. Consequence

_Chapter 9: Consequence_

If it wasn't for the Force strongly indicating otherwise, the spectral silhouettes that float around her would trick Mira into thinking she was dead.

The Padawan struggles to breathe. Every haggard cycle of inhale and exhale wheezes out in a pained, hoarse rasp. The other Jedi that holds her anxiously calls out orders to the surrounding clones, though his voice is drowned out and muffled by the harsh ringing in Mira's ears.

The LAAT cuts through the air. Cold wind whips through Mira's singed hair, irritating the burns on her head. She squirms, writhing as the pain and fear that encase her intensify. Shivering from fear and from the harsh chill that rips through her body, Mira cries out, suddenly very aware of a deep throbbing burn running from the top of her right shoulder to just above her jaw bone.

A raspy cough rips through Mira's lungs. She tastes blood on her tongue. Again she finds herself wanting to give up, to give in to the alluring black calm of unconsciousness and slip away. Her head droops into the crook of her rescuer's arm, her reddened eyes closing for what she is sure will be the final time.

"Mira!" the Jedi desperately begs through the fog of her waning reality. A wave of emotions crashes through her muddled perception of the Force, a fierce mixture of guilt and anger and fear. "Stay with me!"

 _Fade_ , an icy, eerily comforting voice whispers to her.  _It would be easy. You are weary and in pain._

A shiver runs down her spine, a trickle of dark side dripping down her back like a frigid drop of water. The burning intensifies.

_They will be fine without you, my pet._

Mira brow furrows, cold sweat stinging the burns that twist around her face. Her body sinks into the other Jedi's arms. Suddenly jostled awake by a violent shake and a desperate outcry, Mira's grey eyes snap open for a brief second, catching a glimpse of her rescuer's anxious, tear stained face.

 _If you stay,_  the voice hisses again.  _He'll use you. He has done it once; escape before you can let him do it again._

Though her terrified mind shrieks otherwise, her battered body has no trouble listening. Her eyes sink shut.

And all memory of the scene around her – any comfort that the light could give her – suffocates under a jarring amber stare.

* * *

"What have I done?"

The words rasp from his throat in a strangled, desperate whisper. His hands, one of which still combs its fingers through Commander Rourke's charred brown hair, shake. Everything within him begins to shout at once, to demand answers for the dark questions that devastate him.

 _Yes, boy_ , a voice slithers through the Force.  _What indeed?_

Kyle's spirit tries to bite back, but he finds its ability to speak has been scared out of it. He feels as if someone is holding his lips shut, his thoughts back. Desperately he searches for the strength for refute.

 _I'm out of your reach, sithspit_ , he retorts. _You have no hold on me_.

A deep, condescending laugh rumbles through the Force.

 _Young fool_ , Maul hisses.  _If I have no hold on you, why do you still listen to me?_

"Commander, we're beginning our decent," a nearby Clone calls over the engine noise.

The LAAT loses altitude. Kyle's stomach churns. Chills – not from the growing Geonosian night – tingle down his spine. A level of fear he never thought existed consumes his heart. Calling on the light, the Padawan fights to shake the cold weight of the dark side's mantle from his trembling shoulders, though the harder he struggles, the worse it becomes.

 _Do you honestly think you can overpower me, boy?_  Maul maliciously continues.  _I draw from a power you will never be able to comprehend. One that you will always be too weak to resist._

Suddenly it becomes hard to breathe. The corners of his vision darken, though no outside light has changed. Trying to distract himself from his own panic, Kyle watches the LAATs below him land. General Kenobi briskly steps down from his transport, Vullen, Win-Dell, and Thanewulf not far behind.

 _Good_ , he thinks.  _They made it out. Maybe we'll be able to talk this mess out and—_

The three younger Padawans face each other, exchange petrified glances, and throw their arms around each other, sobbing. The pointed, livid glare Vullen sends Kyle's way could burn a hole through durasteel.

 _And what?_  Maul jeers.  _They'll rally to your side? They'll forgive you for nearly killing them? They despise you now, boy. They always will. Look at what you have forced them through. You can no longer be trusted._

Kyle pauses.

 _This is not some misunderstanding that will fade,_  Maul continues. _The damage you have done will be permanent. Whenever they see you – whenever they feel your presence – they will remember this day. They will see you for what you are: a failure, a monster. An utter disgrace to your Master's name._

Kyle's resolve breaks.  _Get out of my head_ , he snaps weakly.

Maul cackles through the Force.  _You can't command me, boy! You have no authority over me. Neither do your friends, if they can be called that. And, because of you, I'll personally remind them all of that._

One of the Clones lifts Mira from Kyle's arms and onto a nearby hovercot. Kyle slowly pulls himself to his feet, willing his wobbly legs to carry him to her side. Suddenly she thrashes on the table, desperately screaming as if trapped in a horrible nightmare. Frightened tears stream down her face.

 _I will tear her apart,_ Maul gloats.  _And you are to blame for it._

Kyle's face darkens. Though his body still stands tall, his Force signature crumples to the ground.

 _I know_ , he chokes out.  _I don't need you to remind me_.

"Commander Targon!" General Skywalker calls.

Kyle winces when he hears him. Trying to steel himself, he turns to face the Hero With No Fear and looks him in the eyes.

If he's about to get torn to shreds, he might as well meet it with what little dignity he has left.

"Inside," Anakin commands angrily. "With me. Now. The Council wants a word."

Kyle inclines his head and follows the general wordlessly into the cave, Mira's agonizing screams nipping at his heels. The Padawan spares one last look over his shoulder at her as General Kenobi, Ahsoka, and several Clone medics rush to calm her.

Heat rises to the backs of his eyes as he turns away. The cold that seizes him intensifies. Though he fights to remain strong, he's never felt so helpless in his life.

What he wouldn't give for a word with his master.

* * *

"Someone hold her down!" a Clone medic orders. "She keeps flailing like that and she'll do more damage!"

Not really seeing any other options, Obi-Wan throws himself across Mira's legs in an attempt to keep the young Jedi still, but it proves to be a monstrous task. Mira kicks out, howling in desperation as her knee slams into his chest. The Jedi Master's gloved fingers wrap around the edge of the operating table, effectively anchoring him in place as the Padawan struggles to free herself.

"If you haven't given her anything yet, Captain," he shouts flatly, "you might just try doing that before she kicks my ribs in."

"We've already given her all she can take, General!" the captain replies. "She's far under, but she's fighting us as if she were awake." He takes a quick step towards Mira's head and moves to get a look at the burn on her neck, but she lashes out before he can.

"Is there anything we can do, Master?" Tessa calls. Her blue eyes are still red from weeping and wide from fear, but nonetheless she steps up. Rikki and Jix stand right behind her.

"Try to keep her calm, Commanders. She might listen to you."

Hesitantly, Jix makes his way to Mira's head, walking around her as if she were an injured krayt dragon.

"Hey there, sweetheart," he says softly. "You don't have to beat these guys up. They're here to help you."

He puts a hand on her shoulder long enough for her to violently jerk it off. Jix jumps.

"Easy!" the Padawan exclaims. "You know me, Rourke! I'm not trying to hurt you; don't fight me like I am!"

"You sure you gave her enough, Captain?" Tessa asks. "You could have measured the dosage incorrectly."

Violently Mira's body begins to shake. Her breathing borders on hyperventilation. The longer Obi-Wan holds her down – the longer he feels her struggle – the more an all-too-familiar cold begins to slink up the Jedi's spine.

The same one he'd felt all those years ago as a Padawan on Naboo. The same he'd felt years later on Raydonia, the day that—

"Stand back," he suddenly orders, his face hardening. "All of you. I know what this is."

A calm, authoritative fire in his eyes, Obi-Wan pushes himself to his feet and moves to Mira's head. He closes his eyes and relaxes into the Force, quietly calling on his old friend as he rests his hand on Mira's forehead. His brow furrows. His jaw hardens.

All of a sudden the Light bounces from his signature in a strength that none of the Padawans have felt before. The darkness that engulfs Mira begins to dissipate, chased away by the unshakable power of the Light. Where chills once tickled at their spines, the familiar, revitalizing warmth of the Living Force wraps around them.

Calm, focused, and still, Obi-Wan's command of the Force finally triumphs. His cerulean eyes reopen. Taking a reassuring breath, he lightly lays a hand on Mira's shoulder. She relaxes under his touch, sinking into the hovercot as if she's fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep.

"You are stronger than he gives you credit for, young one," he reassures softly. "No power he has is any match for the Living Force, especially in the hands of a Jedi who knows their place within its will. Soon you will remind him of that yourself."

He looks up at the other Padawans, a stalwartly resolute gleam in his eyes.

"You all will."


End file.
